Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • This is a photo of me, taken many many years ago on the day my dad married his second wife the first time. It all happened at the Houlihan's swanky house in the Oakland hills.

    I stole a few sips of champagne that day and felt completely glorious in the dress and daisy-studded hairband my new step-mother and already cherished friend, Meta had chosen for me.

    Fast forward to middle age. Meta's been married for a long time now to her second husband and has not only a daughter but a granddaughter, neither of whom I've ever met. For my part, I've been married and divorced twice as a sort of bookend package deal.

    I haven't spoken to my dad for over ten years now and in that particular row, lost touch with Meta in the shuffle. I also stopped speaking to my younger brother and almost fell out with my older brother.

    And now, thanks to the magic of social media, Meta went and found me. We're facebook friends, so we're now sharing the banalities of daily life. I know about the terrible storm that was meant to flatten Atlanta but didn't, and that all is well. I found out when Meta's mum died and that all was not well and was able to offer a few kind words.

    Meta's son, my little brother, still doesn't speak to her or me. I still don't speak to my dad. But my older brother and I are now connected to our ex-stepmother in a way that brings me a lot of happiness.

    Meta sent me this photo of myself taken on that day so very long ago. And what she gave me was a little piece of myself.

    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.